<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>Run away Stevie boy, run like you always do by Multifandom_damnation</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24832315">Run away Stevie boy, run like you always do</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Multifandom_damnation/pseuds/Multifandom_damnation'>Multifandom_damnation</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Stranger Things (TV 2016)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Accidental Bonding, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Billy Hargrove Tries to Be a Better Person, Blood and Injury, Developing Friendships, Fist Fights, Gen, Hurt Steve Harrington, Implied/Referenced Torture, Introversion, Minor Jonathan Byers/Nancy Wheeler, Protective Jonathan Byers, Self-Hatred, Steve Harrington Needs a Hug, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-06-21</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-06-21</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 04:42:02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>4,568</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24832315</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Multifandom_damnation/pseuds/Multifandom_damnation</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>There were many things that Jon hadn’t expected to happen tonight, but the most startling one was watching Steve Harrington weave through the crowd and brush past him as if he couldn’t even see him, rubbing at his face with hands cacked in blood, looking down at the ground with sharp eyes and lips twisted in a grimace, hair covering most of his face but the pull of his brows still recognizable. Jonathon watched him go and exit out the back door, before sending a look to Nancy, who hadn’t noticed Steve or Jon’s confusion. At first, Jon wasn’t quite sure what he should do, but then the back door was swinging closed and Jon decided to move before Steve ran off who knew where.</p><p>When Jon finally made it outside after struggling to dodge the other party-goers, he found Steve in the back lot, running a hand through his hair and pacing back and forth without looking up, not noticing Jon’s arrival. Before he could say anything, Steve yelled and forced his fist against the brick wall so hard that Jon actually winced. Steve looked like he was barely holding back a scream, and he tugged and pulled at his hair so hard that Jon worried he was going to start pulling it out.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Jonathan Byers &amp; Steve Harrington</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>6</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>79</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Run away Stevie boy, run like you always do</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>God, I've had this fic in my WIPS for so damn long it's not even funny. I'm not even sure if it ended the way I originally wanted it to. But I'm making a challenge for myself to finish all my WIPS (i have too many) before I can start any new ones, so this is one of those times. This is actually the first fic I've ever written with Jon as a character?? He's hard to write because I don't know him at all. It was inspired by a scene I saw where Steve pushed passed Jon at a party and he was bleeding and Jon looked after him a little worried?? I think it was early on. I don't know. I haven't seen the show. But I hope you like it and enjoy it as much as I did while I was writing it. It may be a bit of a strange idea, but I was really proud of it while I was writing it, and I hope that translates to the page. I had so much trouble with the title. Like, this was what it always was right from the start, but I almost didn't use it, but it's Tommy's direct quote from the show, so I had to do it.  But thanks in advance for reading!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Jonathon wasn’t invited to many parties these days, and attended them even less, though they were far and few between. He’d much rather stay home with his brother, help his mother out around the house, focus on his work. He was too old for going out every night and partying until the sun came up. But Nancy had been invited by an old friend from high school and had brought Jon along as her plus one so she didn’t have to be alone in a building full of practical strangers. Jon had gone along mostly because Will was hanging out with Mike and his friends and Joyce was spending the night with Hopper, and Jon hadn’t felt like spending the night alone.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It had been a nice night so far, all things considering. Most of the people attending all had their own jobs with their own relationships and problems and had moved on from that in-between phase that high schoolers tend to find themselves stuck in. It was a much mellower party than anything that he had attended before, not that Jon had attended many parties. The music was at a tolerable level- loud enough to not be able to hear the conversation from the people beside you, but not too loud to hurt your eardrums three days later. The lighting was dim, but nobody was stumbling through pitch darkness. Alcohol was provided, but nobody was getting stupid drunk off of cocktails and fruity party drinks, or heavy shots of strong alcohol. He wasn’t really the most well known, well-liked or very popular kid in school, but all the people he accidentally made eye-contact with smiled and nodded at him whether they knew him or not. Maybe it was true, and that it was possible for all people to mature with age.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nancy had been whisked off by an old group of friends who hadn’t seen each other in years and wanted to reconnect a little over drinks, and after throwing a quick panicked, sympathetic look over her shoulder to him, she had left him alone for a moment in the middle of the crowd with a bottle of beer in his hand, bopping half-heartedly along to the music.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He wished he had brought his camera. There were so many people, and none of them knew what they looked like, under nice lighting, mingling with people, throwing their head back and laughing, smiling when they thought nobody was watching, pretty fairy lights and decorations in the background. He would like to have taken as many pictures as he could so he could process them and hand them out to be distributed, instead of standing there like an idiot rocking back and forth on his heels and swirling the last dregs of his beer in the bottom of the bottle.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There were many things that Jon hadn’t expected to happen tonight, but the most startling one was watching Steve Harrington weave through the crowd and brush past him as if he couldn’t even see him, rubbing at his face with hands cacked in blood, looking down at the ground with sharp eyes and lips twisted in a grimace, hair covering most of his face but the pull of his brows still recognizable. Jonathon watched him go and exit out the back door, before sending a look to Nancy, who hadn’t noticed Steve or Jon’s confusion. At first, Jon wasn’t quite sure what he should do, but then the back door was swinging closed and Jon decided to move before Steve ran off who knew where.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When Jon finally made it outside after struggling to dodge the other party-goers, he found Steve in the back lot, running a hand through his hair and pacing back and forth without looking up, not noticing Jon’s arrival. Before he could say anything, Steve yelled and forced his fist against the brick wall so hard that Jon actually winced. Steve looked like he was barely holding back a scream, and he tugged and pulled at his hair so hard that Jon worried he was going to start pulling it out.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Woah,” Jon got involved when Steve seemed to be gearing up for another strike. “What the hell are you doing, Steve? What’s going on?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Panting, Steve pulled away from the wall and flinched away when Jon reached for him. “What are you doing here, Byers?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m attending a party,” Jon retorted. “What about you? Do you usually take time out of your day to bare-knuckle-box a brick wall?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There was no response from Steve, but that was pretty much what Jonathan had expected. A couple stumbled from the back door, arm in arm, paying them no regard, and they walked away until they were alone again. When Jon turned back to Steve, he had his hands on his hips and was looking at the ground like he was thinking about digging himself a ditch. Jon wasn’t sure he could stop him if he tried. There was a blossoming bruise on the side of his face, and blood dripped from his nose onto his lip. “How is it that I can fight demons from another dimension and babysit six kids at once and break into an underground Russian base and deal with a little girl with crazy mind powers, but the moment someone steps up to me and decides he wants to punch my nose it, I suddenly turn into a damn wimp and have to get away, huh? Where’s the damn logic in that?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Uh,” Jon said. He hadn’t been expecting such an honest answer. “I don’t know what you mean.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I mean,” Steve continued as if Jon hadn’t spoken and waved his arm around as he spoke. “It’s only Tommy-fucking-H. There’s no damn reason for me to run away from him, but no matter what I do, he still manages to get me moving like I’m some fucking child afraid of the boogeyman or something.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Before he even realized he was doing it, Jon reached out and grabbed Steve’s hands before he could throw another punch and hurt himself even more. He was surprised to find his hands shaking, but that was probably from anger more than anything else. “You’re bleeding, Steve,” Jon said, eyes fixed on the blood that crusted his jaw, the slowly blossoming bruise around his eye, the dribble of blood from his nose.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What do you care?” Steve snapped as he yanked one hand out of Jon’s hold and wiped his nose with his sleeve. He was dishevelled, and Jon wondered how long he’d be getting beat up for.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He felt a little bad, standing in the back of the building holding hands with Steve, but even stranger was that Steve genuinely didn’t think Jon gave a fuck. “Because you’re my <em>friend</em>, Steve, of <em>course</em> I care that you’re bleeding.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We’re not friends,” Steve said. “You’re Nancy’s boyfriend and Nancy’s Mike’s brother, and I’m Mike’s babysitter. That’s our only relation. So don’t act like we’re best-buds when we both know we’re not,” Steve stared at his reflection in the window and reached his free hand up to gingerly touch his eye. He pulled away, hissing. “Fuck, that hurts like a bitch.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Stung, Jon tried not to bristle. “Well, what the hell happened? I didn’t even know you were at this party.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I wasn’t going to, but fucking Robin convinced me to come with her. I lost her within the first five minutes,” Steve licked his fingers and tried to rub away some of the blood on his jaw, still seething, but slowly calming down. “I went looking for her, but I didn’t get very far. Then I ran into Tommy, and you can imagine how that went.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Tommy H?” Jon frowned. “You’re still friends?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, we haven’t been friends for </span>
  <em>
    <span>years</span>
  </em>
  <span>. I sided with you and Nancy instead of them, and then Billy came around,” Steve snorted. “So no, we’re not friends. He takes every chance he can get to push me up against a wall and beat the shit out of me just for fun.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jon winced. “Come on, I think we’ve got some towels in the car-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>This time, Steve did manage to pull his arm from Jon’s grip, and he turned away. “I’m fine.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, and I’m the pope,” Jon said. “What did you hit you with? A hammer?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“His fists,” Steve replied before he paused and added. “And a two-by-four.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nearly choking on his spit, Jon reached out and grabbed Steve by the shoulder, yanking him backwards so forcefully that Steve nearly lost his footing. “Oh my god, you’re definitely coming with me. We can go sit in the car until Nancy and Robin are done with the party.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How many times do I have to tell you that I’m fine?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He could have done some damage, Steve.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Rolling his eyes, Steve tried again to pry Jon’s fingers from his shoulder, but this time, Jon wasn’t willing to let go so easily. “Listen, I appreciate the concern, but I spend most of my time fighting demon-creatures from another dimension with a baseball bat studded with nails. And I survived being mercilessly beaten by Billy in a bad mood, so I think I can take Tommy.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Reluctantly, Jon let go, but only because Steve started pinching at the skin on the back of his hand. “Did you even fight back? It looks like you just let him have his way with you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A sour look curdled Steve’s features. “Of course I fought back. But as you know, I don’t usually win fights. I did once, on some Russian spy dude, but that was just sheer luck. I haven’t been so lucky since. So yes, I did fight back.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How did you manage to get away if he was beating you with a two-by-four?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Steve shivered as if the very thought disgusted him. “He turned around to stick his tongue down Carol’s throat. I forgot how much I didn’t miss that. I ran through the party so he didn’t follow me, so if you don’t mind, I’m going to continue escaping. If you see Robin, tell her I’m sorry and that I’ll be at my place if she needs me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As Steve turned away, Jon reached out and grabbed him again, though this time it was less to keep him in place than it was to get his attention. “Hold on, you’re just going to run away? You’re not going to face him?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Of course I’m running away. That’s what I do,” Steve said. “I don’t win fights. Even when I was King Steve of Hawkins High, everyone did the fighting for me. I didn’t have to do squat. And now Tommy, my right-hand man, is the guy you want me to fight? He knows I can’t take a hit, or throw a punch. So yeah, I’m going to run away and hide until he moves on and forgets that we ever ran into each other at this damn party.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jon couldn’t understand. “But I’ve seen you fight. You’re not bad. You’ve managed to save all of our asses at least once.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Jon, fighting demogorgon's and demo-dogs and any other demo-whatever that comes from the Upside Down are so much easier to fight than actual people,” Steve said like it was obvious, and Jon couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “There’s a limit to how hard you can hit people without getting in trouble, and killing them with a modified baseball bat is a big no-no to most law enforcement. But I don’t have to worry about that with demo-dogs. I don’t fight with my fists, because I always lose. It’s not worth it. So just let me go before he hurts you too. I don’t want anyone else to get hurt because of me”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Slowly, Jon lowered his hand back down to his side. He hadn’t been expecting the sudden change in tone, but now Steve wouldn’t look at him and was shooting fleeting glances at the back door, where Tommy could emerge from any minute. “Steve,” Jon said gently, and Steve flinched. Sure, Jon and Steve had never really been close, but Jon liked Steve, and he couldn’t understand why he was flinching, even when he was keeping his words gentle. “I can help you with this. I can </span>
  <em>
    <span>help</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shaking his head, Steve backed away and shoved his hands in his pockets. “Not with this, you can’t. Just go home. It’ll be better for everyone involved. Take Nancy and go before they catch you, alright? I don’t want anyone to get hurt. Just go.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Steve was walking away and leaving Jon alone when the back door opened and slammed against the brick wall, and Tommy and the rest of his gang sauntered out, throwing a beer bottle on the ground that shattered into millions of tiny green shards, and marched toward Steve, paying Jon no mind at all. Steve spun around, but it was hopeless as Tommy grabbed him and shoved him against the wall, his face pressed into the brickwork, his arm twisted up behind his back. “Running again, Stevie boy? I thought you learned better than that by now.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The group of teenagers that laughed and jeered at Steve’s plight surrounded him like hungry vultures circling its prey. One of them reached out and pulled at Steve’s hair as he tried to wiggle free. The others cheered Tommy on as he slammed Steve’s head into the wall, sneering at the pained noises Steve couldn’t hold back as blood exploded from his face onto the brick.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Snarling like a dog with its teeth pulled back, Tommy spun Steve around to face him and held him by the lapels of his jacket. “Why aren’t you running yet, Stevie?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Because you’re holding me against the wall, jackass,” Steve spat. “Let me go already. You’ve had your fun.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No can do,” Tommy sneered. “I was having fun with you before. You shouldn’t have run away. You interrupted my flow.” Steve tried to throw a punch at him, but Tommy leaned away and Steve’s fist passed by his face harmlessly, and Tommy laughed. “Oh, now that’s just sad. You and I both know you aren’t a fighter.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey!” Jon shouted, frustrated now, and everyone turned to look at him. “Leave him be, Tommy. Stop being a prick. You’re not a stupid teenager in high school anymore. You can’t just go around doing this.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Steve’s eyes widened in panic as all eyes turned to Jon. Tommy pushed away from Steve, and he slid down the wall and fell to the ground, coughing. Somehow, Jon wasn’t afraid. He had no reason to be. This was Tommy, not a demogorgon. “Shove off, Byers. This doesn’t concern you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You can’t make a living out of being a bully,” Jon continued. “You’re not the King of Hawkins High. Stop acting like it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Growling, Tommy swung a fist at Jon, but Jon was a more experienced fighter than Steve, and he ducked just in time and his fist passed harmlessly over his head. Jon punched him in the stomach as he rose, and Tommy stumbled back, coughing. Suddenly all eyes were on him and Steve sat on the ground, forgotten. He had assumed that Steve would get up and run away while they were distracted but he didn’t move and stared frightfully at Jon.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jon was a pretty good fighter after having to take care of his family and friends since the Upside Down was opened, but Tommy was rougher and heavier and stronger than he was, and while nothing had happened yet, Jon knew that he wouldn’t be able to remain unscathed for much longer, especially if any of his friends decided to get involved. He just hoped that someone would stumble across them before they did.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His prayers were answers when suddenly Tommy froze with his hand fisted in Jon’s shirt and his other hand reached back in preparation to punch him in the face, and a familiar voice said sharply, “Back off,”  and he looked around Tommy to see Nancy standing there with Robin at her side. Nancy had her bulldog revolver pressed into the base of Tommy’s neck, and Jon had completely forgotten had she usually wore in in her waistband for emergencies until now. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Arms raised, Tommy slowly backed away, and Jon slipped away before it all went downhill. “Steve?” he called out without taking his eyes off Tommy. “You alright?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nancy, you carry a fucking gun with you?” Steve sounded horrified, and Jon couldn’t blame him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t sound so surprised,” Nancy replied as Robin pushed through the crowd of gawking teens, who let her through without any fuss, as they were to busy watching Nancy with her gun pointed at their leader. “You should get out of here, Tommy. Get your clique and leave.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Robin crouched down next to Steve on the ground and looked over all his new wounds. “Are you OK?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“This has been the worst party I’ve ever attended. I’d rather be playing Dungeons and Dragons with the kids,” Steve grumbled as Robin helped him up off the ground.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jon kept his eyes on Tommy as he clenched his fists in the air, preparing for a fight, and slowly kept a hand on Nancy’s shoulder just in case. “Get the hell out of here Tommy before this turns ugly.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What are you going to do?” Tommy sneered, and Jon knew that if it weren’t for the gun pointed at his head, he’d be throwing punches. He slowly turned around to face them, and Nancy let him do it but balanced her gun with both hands.  “You think I’m scared of your or your girlfriend, Byers?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re stupider than I thought if you’re not afraid of a loaded gun,” Robin spat from beside Steve, and it wasn’t sure if she was holding him upright, or if he was holding her back. The look on her face was twisted and her eyes were filled with fury.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tommy spat on the ground between him and Nancy, and she scrunched up her face as some landed on her shoe, but her hands remained steady. “That things not even loaded,” he said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nancy jabbed it closer to him, and he recoiled, knocking his head against the brick wall. “You want to take that chance?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jon had always been a loner at school and took solace in the company of himself and his camera and his music, his brother when he felt up to it, but he didn’t have many friends at school. More bullies than anything else. That had changed in recent years, but he still knew when someone was going to start throwing punches when they were desperate enough to get out of a situation by any means necessary and recognized when Tommy got to that place, a feral look in his eyes, acting a little bit like a wild animal backed into a corner, and even with a gun, he didn’t trust Nancy’s safety with that look in Tommy’s eye, something he had seen in Steve and Will and in himself sometimes, and he positioned himself semi in front of her, just in case. Her gun was still in front, but he could move fully in front of her if needed. “Tommy,” Jon warned. “Don’t.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If you lay a finger on them, Tommy,” Steve, covered in his own blood that ran down his chin and stained the front of his shirt that glinted darkly in the night, had never sounded so serious. “I swear to god, I’ll make you regret it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But all the warnings in the world wouldn’t have done any good, as Tommy’s teeth were grit and his eyes were darting around, seizing up the gun in Nancy’s hands and Jon and Steve and even Robin who he barely knew, and Jon knew that Tommy was going to lunge before he even made the move, and he moved in front of Nancy, ready to take the impact-</span>
</p><p>
  <span>-only to feel nothing, and he opened his eyes that he hadn’t realized he’d closed, to see a bare brick wall. The air suddenly stank of bitter smoke and unpleasant cologne, and he looked to his left to see Tommy being held up against the wall by his neck with Billy Hargrove, wearing nothing but a leather jacket over his bare chest, sneering down at him, a lit cigarette dangling from his lips, a disappointed look on his face. “Are you bothering these people, Tommy?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As much as he was able, Tommy gulped, and his voice came out squeaky. For the first time that Jon had ever seen, he actually looked afraid. “No Billy.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Really? Because it looks like you’ve had a little too much fun tonight. Isn’t that right?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No Billy, I-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Was it <em>you</em> that hit Harrington? Come on, be honest with me. You know what’ll happen if you’re not.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Billy-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you remember me telling you that if you ever went five feet near Harrington or any of his friends, I would break every bone in your miserable body? Or did that just… slip your mind?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When Tommy didn’t answer, legs shaking under his weight, eyes wide with fear, Billy released him and let him fall against the wall, gasping for breath. And then he reared back and punched Tommy so hard in the face that something cracked under his fist, and blood sprouted from his face and arched across the brickwork. He fell to the ground, screaming and clutching at his face, as Billy looked down at him with disdain and flicked his dying cigarette at him. “Get lost, Tommy,” he sounded bored. “And if I ever see you bothering these people again, I won’t be so nice.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tommy brushed the cigarette off of his clothes as the embers burned his skin, and he rose on shaky legs and ran out of the alley as fast as he could without looking back, holding his face like he was afraid it might fall apart, and immediately the rest of his lackeys backed away from the huddle they had formed around Steve and Robin and followed after Tommy’s retreating back. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Chuckling to himself, Billy shoved his hands in his pockets and rocked back and forth on his heels. Somehow, he had a toothpick between his teeth already. “What a fucking idiot. I mean, even by my standards, he’s a prick,” he turned to them. “All good here?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What the fuck are you doing here?” Steve demanded and Robin tightened her grip on his shoulder.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Billy actually frowned. “You’re fucking welcome, by the way.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You didn’t answer his question,” Nancy said, turning the gun onto Billy. He looked at it, pressed inches from his bare chest, with barely concealed fury. “What the fuck are you doing here?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Slowly, Billy rose his eyes from the barrel of the gun to Nancy, and she resisted the urge to take a step back at the look on his face. “My <em>sister</em> likes you assholes. Fucked if I know why, but she does,” Billy spat. “She made me promise that I would help you if you needed it. And I followed through with my promise. So fuck you I guess.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They watched as Billy turned on his heels and retreated down the alley, his hands in his pockets, head down, and soon he was gone just as suddenly as he arrived, fading into the darkness and mingling with the night.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Now that everything had settled down, the four final teens looked to each other, all in various states of exhaustion and disarray. “Are you OK?” Steve was the first to ask, which was ironic, considering he was literally covered in his own blood. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fine,” Jon replied. He turned to Nancy. “I didn’t know you brought your gun.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I had a feeling tonight was going to go badly,” she admitted as she tucked it back into her waistband. “Don’t worry. It isn’t loaded.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I can’t believe you intimidated Tommy H with an empty gun,” Robin sounded impressed. “How did you even get it?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nancy shrugged. “I asked Hopper to get it for me. With our line of work, it’s good to be prepared at all times, even with a bulldog with no bullets.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jon looked Steve over and cringed at all the blood. “Are you alright?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I mean, I’ve been worse,” Steve said. “I’ve been drugged and had needles drilled into my jaw by crazy Russian doctors. If I can handle a little bit of torture, then I can handle Tommy being a prick.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nobody commented on the morbid sense of humour. “I’m glad you didn’t run this time, Steve,” Jon said. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, well, it’s not like I had a choice,” Steve said. “If you had left me be, I would have gotten out of here, and none of that would have happened. But yeah. So am I, I guess.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Robin wrapped her arms around Steve and rested her head on his shoulder. “Do you want to go back inside or are you ready to escape this dump?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No offence, Robin, but I was ready to leave this party the moment you invited me,” Steve admitted, and Robin laughed. “So yeah, I just want to go home. Clean all this up before someone asks why I’m walking around covered in blood.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah. I’ll call my parents, ask if I can crash at your place,” Robin said. “I’ve got a change of clothes there. We can have our own little party.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Smiling, teeth red with blood, Steve looked at Jon and Nancy. “You guys good?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah,” Jon said. “We’re fine. We should probably head home too. This party was a bust.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nodding, Steve wiped a hand across his face and smeared some of the blood from his chin onto the back of his hand. “I need a nap,” he sighed. “Cya later, fuckers.” Steve waved at them over his shoulder as Robin looped her arm in his and led him down the alley, away from the back door of the building and the opposite direction Tommy had run in.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But then it was just Nancy and Jon, and they stood together, hand in hand, anxious in the silence. “We should probably get out of here before somebody spots us and drags us back in,” Nancy said. “Or a demogorgon smells all of Steve’s blood and comes looking.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I thought you’d never ask,” Jon managed a smile.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thanks for looking out for Steve back there,” she said, and Jon should have known it was coming, but the fact that he was being thanked at all was mindblowing. What else was he going to do? Let Steve get the crap beaten out of him and do nothing about it? “I think he needs more friends like that. I mean, so far, all he’s got is Robin and all the kids. I think he’d really appreciate having you as a friend.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Friend or not,” Jon said. “I’ll always have his back.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The words were out before he realized he had said them, and after a moment, he knew that he absolutely meant what he said. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nancy smiled that blinding smile that he loved so much, and he let her walk him to the car, his heart fluttering in his chest and his mind racing a mile a minute, and he contemplated driving by Steve’s place tomorrow to see how he was doing. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yeah. He’d like that.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I knew from the beginning that I wanted Billy to come in and scare the crap out of Tommy. Did I expect nobody to be grateful for his held and for Nancy to hold a gun to his chest? No, I did not, but boy am I surprised it worked out that way. If you're wondering where he came from or why he was shirtless, in my head he had just finished work at the pool and had heard the commotion and went to take a look.  Also, someone needs to tell me if demogorgon/demo-dog is spelled with a capital D. Because Grammarly says it should be. Bulldog revolvers are the tiny ones that hold like, five bullets. BTW, I know nothing about guns, because I live in Australia, so don't come at me Americans for getting something wrong. I actually googled guns that were available in the 1980s, I didn't just pull it out of my ass.</p></blockquote></div></div>
</body>
</html>